


Ladies Don't Ride Sidesaddle

by secretsofluftnarp (luftie)



Series: From Manhattan to Mars (and then Mars Again) [2]
Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: F/F, Femslash, M/M, Multi, OT3, Post-Canon, crackfic turned sincere, soft cowboy memes, talking bout your feelings on Mars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luftie/pseuds/secretsofluftnarp
Summary: As Red and Croach get home (from their time-hole adventure to Manhattan), Red recounts her adventures with Sadie (of the bedroom and non-bedroom variety). Sparks is being weird about Croach. Stuff’s been pretty weird between them since they got back from beingflung into the sun.





	1. Return to a Red Planet

Croach had one arm wrapped around Red’s shoulders, and Red had one arm wrapped around Croach’s waist. Croach was limp, and groggy. Red was underslept, and happy.   
  
“Have we cleared the time-hole?” Croach murmured.   


“It was like, two steps, Croach. We made it fine.” “I am eager to depart from the place designated ‘an apartment high above Park Avenue’ and return to our own place and time. It is possible I have a condition known as a h’ang’ov’er.”   
  
“Oh, it’s  _ possible _ , all right.” Red lowered the seat on her rocket horse so Croach could slide on easily, and swung up behind him. She put her arms around his waist, leaning his body up against hers so he wouldn’t fall over, and steered a slow, even course toward home.   


“When the human designated Sadie Doyle was your guest, here on Mars, and I was a guest of the human designated Frank Doyle, in the place designated Manhattan -- “   
  
“Yeah?” Red said, still grinning.   


“Did you engage in mutually pleasurable activities?”  
  
“Baby. I said I’d tell you when we got home, and I  _ will  _ \--”  
  
Croach continued, clearly bragging. “Because I did.”  
  
Red laughed. “I noticed, you goof.” She helped him slide off the horse as they pulled into home, and walked him inside. 

“Red One,” Croach said, his eyes slowly coming into focus, “did a highly specialized turbulent weather system create a path through our bedroom?”

“Ah, shit,” Red said, half-apologetically, but not regretfully, at the mess. “That is -- yeah. That is what Miss Time Travel Drunkypants and I got up to.”  
  
“I am registering something similar to the human emotion designated _impressed_.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Red. “It was fuckin’ impressive.”


	2. Saloon Visitin' and Boot Knockin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie bests an unsavory character at the saloon, and gets what she came for. Red has a few different types of hankerin'.

_**Earlier that Weekend**_  


“Goodness,” Sadie said, surveying the landscape, shading her eyes with one hand, “I hope the landscape isn’t as dry as it looks.” She picked up her carpet bag, which clinked and clanked. “Luckily, I brought refreshments!”

“You tanked already?”

“Always,” Sadie lilted, always just on the edge of laughter. “Look at those moons! I’m already seeing double!”

“This is Mars,” Red said, too stiffly, because she was nervous. “There’s _always_ two moons.”   
  
“Then let’s see if we can make it four! Glug glug glug!” Sadie offered Red what was in her hand. “Flask?”   
  
“Not yet. Soon, prob’ly.”   
  
“Now, The Red Plains Rider, I simply must know everything about this Western Sector planet. Is there a showdown at noon at the Space Corral? What, do tell, is a hypercattle? And how many gallons _is_ your hat?”

On the last question, Sadie had stepped quite close to her, brow brushing her hat’s brim. Sadie’s face up close was still pristine, with big, dark eyes and a smile that hinted at something else. Something about that simper was real pretty, and something about it cheesed Red off right fierce.

But yeah, sure, she could explain about Mars. She was _from_ here. “There ain’t usually a showdown happening but if there was I’d win. And hypercattle, they’re like Earth cattle, but… more.”   
  
Red noticed that Sadie didn’t exactly care about the answers to her questions. She cared about sizing Red up with her stupid, perfect face. It was about the hat, but it wasn’t. Sadie looked like she was about to smell the leather, take the brim between her perfect teeth.

“And you’re a cowboy vigilante woman,” Sadie said, flicking her eyes approvingly over Red’s outfit. Red was starting to get it. Sadie did whatever she wanted on account of she was fancy, and what she liked right now was what was in front of her.  
  
“Now, The Red Plains Rider, I require your opinion,” she said, her voice full of faux innocence. “I haven’t the rough n’ ready getup that you have, with your adorable leather pants and saddle swag -- though I do think it would look impeccable on me --”   
  
Red didn’t disagree. Sadie said ‘adorable’ like Red was some fluffy palm-of-your-hand sized critter that could be scooped up and kissed. Red hadn’t thought she was into that, but. Apparently so.   
  
“So, in your expert opinion, is this acceptable Western Sector attire?”

Sadie, who had been wearing a closed, ruffled black cape, undid the ribbon at her neck and whirled it off. Beneath it was a red, ruffled, off-the-shoulder dress with black lace accents, very striking for a whole bunch of reasons, and two in particular.

“Sweet Space Jesus,” Red said. “Those tits are incredible.”  
  
Shit, Red thought. That wasn’t a thing you said to _fancy_ .   
  
Sadie’s voice went low, amused, still smiling. “They are, aren’t they.”

Fuck her. Actually, yeah, _fuck_ her. And fuck anyone and anything who got in the way of that happening.

The communicator clipped to Red’s hip crackled to life. Shit.

“Blue Eagle,” crackled a woman’s voice. “Blue Eagle, there is unusual activity detected nearby and as a fine detector of unusual activity I am assignin’ you to check it out.”   
  
“Crap,” said Red, unhooking the radio from her hip and pressing the ‘talk’ button. “Dispatch, this is Red Eagle. Blue Eagle, uh, he ain’t here.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Red Eagle, can he get back from where he is?” Maisey Lyons did not sound sorry.

“Blue Eagle is off-planet,” Red explained, without explaining.

Another voice came over the comms. “Wait, Croach is off-planet? Since when?”  
  
“Protocol,” Maisey sighed.   
  
“Sorry, Maisey… I mean Dispatch,” Sparks’ voice said. “Gold Eagle is like, whaaaat? I thought Red Eagle or Blue Eagle woulda told me if Blue Eagle was suddenly off-planet. Is he, uh… is he mad at me?”   
  
“ _What did I say about usin’ your Space Police Radios for personal business_ ?” Maisey said sternly.   
  
“Not to do it,” Sparks and Red said together.

“As you know,” Maisey said, “as the Head Marshal Actually In Charge, I am takin’ care of large business -- such as currently brokerin’ a peace deal with some very ornery robit outlaws to change the laws so they won’t be outlaws no more --”  
  
“So cool,” Sparks muttered. “So much paperwork.”   
  
“ -- and I am trustin’ you three as Totally Equal On-Call Law Enforcement to take care of smaller business as it arises, with myself makin’ assignments such as to maximize efficiency and minimize distractin’ interpersonal interference, especially since, as y’alls said, stuff’s ‘been weird’ since y’all got back from bein’ _flung into the sun_ .”  
  
“Hey now. We’re heroes,” Sparks said. “But also, yeah. Weird stuff happened.”   
  
Red rolled her eyes and called in. “So where is this unusual activity and uh…” Red eyed Sadie, who was eyeing her expectantly. “Can Nevada do it?”   
  
“An unclassified energy signature has appeared in the vicinity of the Space Saloon --”   
  
Upon hearing the word _saloon_ , Sadie snatched Red’s radio. “Vodka Eagle is on the case! Ten-four! Hup hup! Roger roger roger!”   
  
“Sure, what the hell,” Red laughed. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  


_The saloon doors are open_ , Sadie heard a feminine voice say.

“Oooh! Where’s the charming-sounding lady?”  
  
“You are inside me,” the saloon doors said. “The saloon’s artificial intelligence thinks you’re looking pretty good yourself.”

“That’s very forward of you,” Sadie said. “I approve.”

Red surveyed the scene. “Barkeep, you aware of any unusual activity that might look like that specific thing you don’t want in your place?”

“Sure am!” Barkeep pointed toward the far end of the bar, where some lights spun, like something that didn’t belong on this world was just about to arrive. “I keep askin’ the saloon AI about it an’ she just says ‘unusual activity confirmed.’”  
  
“Confirmed,” the saloon AI confirmed.

“Oh! I adore a bartender,” Sadie cooed, the trouble in this place apparently secondary. “Make me a martini?”  
  
“I ain’t heard nobody say that in years!” Barkeep laughed. “Yeah, I can make you a martini, but I only got Space Vermouth.”   
  
“Even better,” Sadie beamed.   
  
“You sure you want to be stoppin’ for a martini at a time like this?” Barkeep asked.   
  
“Doubly sure. Oooh! Make it a double.”

The light at the far side looked awfully familiar to Red. Familiar in a way that she couldn’t quite remember, but what gave her a real bad feeling.

“You know what that is, dontcha?” said a low, familiar voice. “Cuz I ain’t… I ain’t got energy for shenanigans.”

“Sparks?” Red said, spotting him to her left. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Uh. Wanderin’ aimlessly on account of Croach not bein’ here? Who’s the lady? Hi lady.”   
  
“Sadie Doyle.” Sadie extended her hand to be kissed.   
  
Sparks took it, forgot what he was doing, and tipped his hat. “You are...wow.”

“And you’re Sparks Nevada!” Sadie said, booping him on the nose. “I’ve read my share of Western Sector romance novels.”  
  
Sparks’ face fell a little further. “Dang, you too?”

“Did somebody say shenanigans?” Sadie said, roughly eighteen times more excited than Sparks, and inventing her own pronunciation to boot. “I’m excellent at she-nan-i-gans.”

“You don’t recognize those lights, Red?” Sparks asked. “I forget, did you meet ‘em? The emperor-king of pointless nonsense?”  
  
“Don’t reckon so,” Red said, eyes narrowing. She was thinking about laser bullets, and the fastest way they could help in this case.

“I would like to point out,” Barkeep hollered, “a downright disconcerting amount of potential trouble in my place!”  
  
“No trouble at all, dear sir!” a voice boomed and simpered from the spinning lights. Red hated it immediately. “Merely fun, and, not to be outdone, whimsy!”   
  
“I’m with you, Nevada,” Red said. “Whatever this is, I _hate_ it.”   
  
Sadie, on the other hand, strode over with a drunk’s confidence, on top of a confident-person’s confidence. “What’s your whimsy?” Sadie said, addressing the lights which were forming into the shape of a being. A being who was, notably, very pink. “Mine’s gin. Or vodka. And sometimes whiskey.”   
  
“The term is whimsy, comma, fun and!” K of the Cosmos shouted. “It requires no other definition!”

“Why,” Sadie exclaimed, as more pieces of their guest came into view, “you’ve got a swirly-whirly interdimensional moxahedron!”  
  
“You,” K exclaimed, “have a disconcerting amount of background knowledge!”

“Lucky you,” Sadie beamed. “I’m excellent at whimsy. A downright whimsy _connoisseur_.” Sadie leaned against the bar. “What brings you to these parts, stranger?”

“Someone has opened a time-hole! It is my sixth favorite type of hole!”

“Ah,” Sadie said. “Whoopsie.”  
  
“I have a gambit,” K announced. “If anyone can guess my true name in three tries --”   
  
“Oooh! I know!” Sadie called, waving her hand. “Rumplestiltskin!”   
  
“No!” K crowed. “But really, good guess.”   
  
“Rats,” Sadie said. “I’ve always wanted to try that one.”

“Hey, computer,” Sparks muttered. “You got this guy’s name on file?”  
  
“Inconclusive,” the Saloon AI said. “The saloon AI is totally high on unusual energy fumes right now.”

“That’s cheating!” K barked. He pointed at Sadie. “ _She_ gets three guesses! Just her!”

“What in inebriation,” Red said, pushing her way over. “Sadie, you can’t take these interdimensional trickster types at their word. Before you know it you’ll be fake pregnant because a shapeshifter made it look like he was someone he wasn’t, or ducking through time-travel paradoxes so’s your fraud of a not-husband doesn’t start a war that tears apart space-time --”  
  
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” Sparks muttered. “Red hates tricksters.”   
  
“Haaaaaates ‘em,” Red confirmed. “Like a _lot_.”

Sadie leaned in close to Red. “Do you trust me?” she whispered, full lips close to Red’s ear.

“Nope,” Red said. “But I’d...like to?”  
  
“Give it a whirl,” Sadie whispered, with a wink. “You shan’t regret it.”

Red was mad enough at the interdimensional trickster type in front of them that yeah, she would like to see Sadie take him out. Seemed like that was a thing Sadie could do, right?

“My second guess,” Sadie announced, “is Steve.”  
  
“I am not nor shall I ever be Steve!” K declared.   
  
“This here ain’t a fair bet,” Sparks protested. “Sadie, you can’t win --”   
  
“Well,” said Sadie, climbing up to stand on the bar, “I certainly can’t lose.”

“Uh,” said Sparks. “You can, though? You could totally lose.”

Sadie dramatically hiked up her dress and pulled, from her thigh holster, the time-blaster -- the little pistol that had created the time-hole in the first place. Red felt faint, and flushed, and furious, and suddenly too aroused to be seen in public.

“Hey now,” said Barkeep, “that looks like _multiple_ types of trouble --”

Sadie aimed the time-blaster skyward, and did not fire. She began to speak, with a focused determination. “Kingkukumanikus Kefabble Armstrong Umbilicus Washtenberg Floccinaucinihilipilification --” As Sadie spoke, she twisted a knob on the side of the time-blaster. Her mouth kept saying syllables, faster and faster, and everyone in the saloon turned their heads to look. The words sped up to a blur, and then slowed back down.  
  
“...Emmuska Orczy Farraday Wonderpuzzle Expy-Aly-Docious Kosmos,” Sadie finished.

K was temporarily speechless, which was very, very rare. “How did you say my name with your human mouth? It should have taken you an entire lifetime to say it!”

“It should,” Sadie said, blowing across the barrel of the time-blasting gun like so many birthday candles. “But I’m a time-bender.” Sadie beamed. “And I just spent a lifetime -- the experience of which is helpfully outside of my perception -- doing my fourth or fifth favorite activity.”  
  
“Your fourth or fifth favorite activity is _saying names of things_ ?”   
  
Sadie extended her hand. “Sadie Doyle. Now, back to your dimension, as you said! Shoo!”

K, with his entire face contracted into a pout, poofed out of existence on this dimensional plane.

“Thanks for dispatchin’ the trouble from my place,” Barkeep said. “Saloon Doors, you okay?”

“The Saloon Doors are online,” the Saloon AI responded. “But they are...disoriented.”  
  
“Marshal! Marshal! HAAAAAAAALP!” a familiar voice yelped. “There done was a being who just poofed out of existence, and to my recollection, that ain’t regular.”  

“Get lost, Felton,” Red said. “Sadie here took care of it.” She smiled, lopsided and goofy, at Sadie. Sadie took it in stride.  
  
“Uh,” Sparks said, watching Felton run out the doors. “You might not want to say that to Felton.”

Red ignored him. “Barkeep! More alcohol?” She nodded to Sadie. “He actually has everything so long as you say ‘space’ in front of it.”

“Oooh!” Sadie was overjoyed. “A space vodka! No! A space whiskey! No! Space absinthe!”

“Think I’ll head up to the Marshal Station and write up this incident report,” Sparks said. “It’s gonna be a doozy.”  
  
“You all right, Sparks? You do not seem on top of it,” Red said. “Is this actually about Croach bein’ off-planet?”   
  
“Uh, yeah? I just think it’s weird, is all.”   
  
“Nevada. That ain’t all.”

“Red, c’mon. You know stuff’s been, y’know, weird since --”  
  
“Since we got back from bein’ near flung into the sun, yeah.”   
  
“And Croach and I --”   
  
“Damn near started talkin’ bout your feelings, even.”   
  
“But then it got --”   
  
“Awkward and sexual and then you couldn’t talk about them any more.”   
  
“Yeah. You know. That thing,” Sparks said. “So I’m gonna...paperwork. Super important. Yeah.” 

“I wonder,” Sadie whispered, as she watched Sparks leave, “if your marvelous turquoise-colored beau, who is currently in Manhattan, is inclined toward having gentleman friend-relations, and if my husband is more than occasionally that-way inclined --” Sadie raised her eyebrows, waiting to see what Red thought.

Red snorted. “That is his own thing,” Red said. “Just like I am my own thing. And apparently you are.”

“I am very much, as you say, my own thing.” Sadie nodded down the bar. “Space bourbon?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”  


  
“That is definitely a gun in your pocket,” Sadie observed, after a third or fourth space bourbon. “But I take it you are happy to see me, regardless.”   
  
“Hah,” Red laughed, a little too loudly, and slipped a little, a little too dependent on her elbows proppin’ her whole self up on the bar. “I only half understand where-all you came from and what-all you’re about, and _yet_ .” Red got her face real close to Sadie’s, meaning to say something flattering, but wound up just staring Sadie’s face, and it being so perfect it still made her a little mad.   
  
“I’m really quite something,” Sadie said.   
  
“Yeah,” Red said, like she was about to threaten a showdown that wasn’t a showdown. “You are.”   
  
Barkeep, mistaking this for a less sexy type of aggression, came a bit too close to the middle of them. “Now, I don’t want no --”   
  
“For fuck’s sake, Jiminy!” Red yelled. “This ain’t the kind of trouble you’re not looking for.”

Red took a step away from the bar, and near fell over. “Actually, I’m a-see myself out regardless. With the lady. Obviously. My place is this way, lady. Sadie. Sadie-lady.”  
  


  
On the way in, Sadie burbled something about her charming abode. Red did not understand niceties at a time like this. Sadie wasn’t playing at anything other that what she was clearly playing at, right?   
  
Except Sadie had, in that moment of distraction, pinned her to a wall.   
  
“Aw, _heck_ no,” Red said, not because it was a bad place to be, but because she full meant to get there first. She pushed Sadie into the opposite wall, and Sadie gasped, a real, good, just-barely-off-her-guard gasp.

And Red kissed her right then, and Sadie kissed her right back, holding it real long, making a small, low, satisfied little hum of a moan. It was a real good kiss, and Sadie kept kissin' her. Sadie's hand was on her neck and Red was pressing their bodies together, without even meaning to, with her leg between Sadie's legs, her hand on her hip. Sadie wrapped a leg around Red and Red slid a hand up her stockinged thigh, finding a bit of smooth bare skin just above the stocking. Sadie detached from the kiss, eyes up, waiting for Red to say something seductive.

“Bedroom’s over there,” Red said.

Sadie made a little half-laugh, as if to say, cute, and began a slow, exaggerated saunter in the bedroom direction, tossing off parts of the dress in the process. Under it was some black lacy lingerie, faux-corseted, and those lace-top stockings " _What_ in sophistication," Red laughed. What a bunch of lacy nonsense. What ridiculous, hot, fancy nonsense.

Here's where Red coulda got worried about not being with Earth women before, but it wasn't like that. Sex was sex was sex, honestly. Sex was getting a real strong sense in your saddle-ridin' parts and getting somebody to help you get where you needed to go. The thing about growing up Martian was, once Red understood that her own human body was not some kind of freak accident (which, had taken her a while), she knew how Martians did it and how humans did it and that if you looked around a little more (she had), there were even more ways than that. It started looking like there were no real right ways or wrong ways to do it, just good options and better options, depending on circumstance. Anyway, she'd done a lot of stuff before what probably applied here.   
  
“Well," Sadie breathed. "What have we _here_."

Oh, that was hilarious. Sadie had found the tack wall.

Red had taken to hanging leather clothes on pegs on the wall, for grabbin’, then hats and belts and vests too, plus the saddlehorn that Sadie was now fondling, running her fingers in circles on it, while looking meaningfully at Red.

"That leather is for actual horse ridin', Sadie," Red said. "And there ain't no whips or nothin' on account of our horses are robots."

"Come now, all of it?" Sadie cooed. "Not this one." Dangling from Sadie's fingers was a harness clearly designed for human hips.

Red smiled. "Ya got me."  
  
Sadie waggled a finger through its holster-hole. "Where's its friend?" 

Red went into a drawer and took out a cock: nicely weighted, metallic, smooth, flexible. She pushed some buttons on its base: it vibrated faster, slower, blinked lights in different colors, angled and whirled. Sadie looked entranced. “Robot dicks," Red explained. "Sometimes we used to do it with a pair of ‘em.”

Something about ‘used to’ didn’t sit right with Red, but it was the truth. She and Croach hadn't really been doing it lately, had they. Huh.  
  
"Darling," Sadie said, "how are you at bodice-ripping?"   
  
"Reckon I can figure it out."

"What if I told you," Sadie said, pressing the cock and harness into Red's hand, "that a big-city girl like me couldn't possibly know what a dashing and dangerous cowboy vigilante woman such as yourself would want with me?"

"I wouldn't believe you," Red said. "But I'd play along."  
  
Sadie grabbed Red by the front of her shirt. "Then go ahead," she breathed. "Make _my_ day."

Red near threw Sadie onto the bed, wrenching her own clothes off as fast as they would go in the process, throwing them any which way. Sadie tossed her underwear at Red, and it bounced off her face.  
  
"Leave the boots on," Sadie purred.

Right then. Red, wearing nothing but the harness and her boots, leaned over Sadie.

She ran a hand up and down Sadie's side. _Can't say what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this,_ Red started, monologuing nonsense, making the drawl in her voice harsher than usual. _Buncha real shady characters bound to get the wrong idea. I ain't wakin' up to find you tied to some train tracks somewhere, folks done prepared to have their way with you --_

Sadie made some very pleased noises as Red drew her hands across her thighs and coaxed her fingers into her. Sadie was warm and velvety and very ready. She smelled drunk. And classy. She smelled like the classiest kind of drunk.  
  
Red switched up the nonsense. _Watch it, girlie, you ain't used to rough and tumble folks, much too purty for these parts, got me so riled up can't help it, bound to pop a six-shooter right off._ Red leaned in close, metal cock at the ready. 

Sadie leaned to Red's ear. "You're doing an excellent job, darling."

Red flushed harder than she already was. Good. Red hooked a hand into the top of Sadie's bodice and pulled, but it was tougher than she thought, and wouldn't rip. Red wedged her hand in to get a better hold and got a handful of breast instead, which Sadie seemed to enjoy so she stayed there a while, kneading and playing.  
  
'Cept she wasn't paying attention, not fully, and Sadie flipped Red onto her back.

“What in tarnation -- “ Red blurted.  
  
“You said it!” Sadie crowed, like she had won something.

And maybe she had. She straddled Red, letting that gleaming cock sink into her, fucking it with that winking confidence she always had. And that was real nice too. Red could have put her hands on Sadie's hips and just watched her enjoy herself. But she couldn't just let her get away with takin' charge.

Red turned the vibration on, hard, and Sadie squealed, caught off guard. Red muttered something about _aimin' to tussle_ and flipped Sadie back onto her back. Sadie, her breathing jagged, wrapped her legs around Red, teeth bared, a clear signal: _now you give it or else_ . Red finally tore the bodice at the side-seam, pulled it off, threw it across the room. And Sadie got _loud_ , wordless shouts each time Red thrust into her. Red punched the vibrator settings into high gear, and Sadie screamed -- an actual, honest-to-goodness scream -- until she wound it down again, and Sadie bucked, burbled, and came against the low hum.   
  
Red held Sadie close, feeling her body's aftershocks against hers. Sadie, eyes half-shut, made low, calm, satisfied sounds.   
  
Red's clit hurt.

"Sadie?" Red said, pulling the cock out slowly, taking the harness off, letting it fall aside.

Sadie made a sound like someone coming out of a dream. "Hmm?"

"I ain't done." Red coulda rubbed one out, probably, but that didn't seem right or fair, what with Sadie being right there. Red felt her insides pulsing, mean, angry at the inattention.

"Do continue to have your way with me, darling."

All right.  
  
It was a little mean, probably, to up and surprise her, but she'd said, hadn't she? Red swung her legs up and then brought her angry clit down, right onto Sadie's face.  
  
Sadie's eyes wide in genuine surprise was one of the most satisfyin' things Red had seen in a long time. And Sadie didn't try to throw her off, she relaxed into it, letting her eyes half-close, finding Red with her mouth. Red flexed her hips back and forth, riding out the sensation, guiding it to get her where she needed to go. Red ground down, easy at first, then harder as she got closer. "HA!" Red yelped, and slapped the wall as she came.

On the dismount, Red grabbed a bandana from the bedside table -- Red always had a few on hand at any given time -- and handed it to Sadie, as she snuggled back to bed beside her.

“Dumpling Marjoram Red Plains Rider-Waite Seldom,” Sadie faux-scolded, and blotted her mouth.  
  
“How did you -- you made some of those names up.”

Sadie waggled her eyebrows, not denying it.

"You, uh, need a drink or something?" Red said, meaning water.  
  
"Oooh, of course," Sadie cooed. "Fetch me my bag, darling. You?"   
  
"I am full up," Red said, as Sadie mixed herself a drink. Red felt great, but maybe not good. Her body felt amazing. Her head felt lost.

"Hell," said Red. "I think I need a hug."

Sadie sat up in bed while Red lay, drink in one hand, petting Red's hair with the other. She motioned for Red to come up and sit beside her, and hugged Red to her.

"I think I got some things on my mind," Red said, thinking vaguely of Croach, and Sparks, and how relaxed she felt with Sadie that she did not feel with the other two. "I don't want to be ruinin' any moment for you, though."  
  
"I'm quite pleased, darling, so much so that I believe I would be difficult to ruffle" Sadie said, kissing Red on the top of head. "I came here for the same reasons I do anything." Sadie counted on her fingers. “Adventure, Alcohol, Or-gasms. And we've had a nice portion of all three, I'd say.”

"So, you know Croach," Red said.  
  
"Your cerulean beau."   
  
"And you know Sparks."   
  
"The uncharacteristically morose sheriff of this town."   
  
"And you know how they've got a thing, but it's also not a thing? I feel like...Croach has been around, but also he hasn't been around, you know?"

Sadie fixed herself a drink from her bag and nodded along, kindly, like the world’s drunkest therapist.

“You ever been involved with folks who...leave you wonderin’ if something’s changed between you?” Red asked.  
  
“No,” Sadie said. “But that sounds exhausting, darling.” 

Sadie was real kind, Red realized, in a way that wasn't an act. She listened, and she cared. Red thought she was gonna cry on those perfect tits, which wasn't fair, to her or them, but she kept it together, mostly.

That night, Red took Sadie out to one of her favorite spots, the far cliffs, to look at the stars, which Sadie adored. It was one of the places Red liked to go to be completely alone, but it was all right to have Sadie there. It was real pretty, and Sadie wasn't from this place. Or maybe it was that Red still felt alone, even with Sadie there, and she didn't quite know why.

Sadie loved the planet. She loved it like an overjoyed tourist would, but with a whole-hearted honesty that Red appreciated. This is where I'm from, Red told her, and Sadie loved it, loving her, in her own way, by extension. The next sunrise, Sadie walked Red back to the spot where she could blast a portal home, leaving Red satisfied in the bones and wanting in the heart.


	3. The Trouble With Croach (And Sparks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talkin' 'bout your feelings is awkward as heck, but also, gotta say, worth it.

**_The Time Designated the Present_**  


“Sparks Nevada expressed concern that I ventured off-planet without telling him?” Croach asked.  
  
“ _That_ is what you got out of that story?” Red was surprised, but well. Maybe not that surprised.

“I am glad that your bedroom diversion was enjoyable. Mine was as well.”  
  
“You can come in, Sparks,” Red yelled out the door to an approaching Nevada, who was attempting to look like he hadn’t been waiting around for Croach to reappear. Sparks wandered through the little living room, which he’d been to plenty. “You can sit down too,” Red said, a little annoyed at how timid he was all of a sudden, when he’d been in and around their bed enough to be familiar with it, since they got back from the sun.  
  
Sparks sat on a corner of the bed, avoiding Red’s piles of thrown-about clothes.  
  
“Sorry about the mess,” Red said, not really sorry. “There was -- y’know. Cavortin.’”  
  
“Yeah, well, I been up to...important stuff,” Sparks said. “Like, y’know, that paperwork about that stuff at the saloon. Plus I had to go find Felton. When you told him to get lost, Red, he, uh. He got _really_ lost.” Sparks was trying to act like he wasn’t awful curious about Croach, but couldn’t ignore the way Croach was lolling face-up in the middle of the bed. “Croach, are you okay?”  
  
“I have a mild case of dehydration,” Croach said. “Resulting from copious alcohol consumption.”  
  
“Croach, you know we all gotta be careful about that.”  
  
“Upgrades to my Nah Nohtek make alcoholic consumption considerably less lethal than in previous cycles.”

“I know all about your nanotech upgrades, Croach. I was there. I meant the dehydration. We all gotta look out. On account of the sun poisoining.”  
  
“Any medical professionals we have consulted deemed us to be fully recovered from the effects of extreme sun exposure. Or from other injuries obtained in the attempt to impede our sun’s theft by sun rustlers.”  
  
“Yeah. I just know sometimes I feel like myself, and sometimes I…don’t. You know?”

“I do not know, Sparks Nevada.”

“I would hazard a guess,” Red said, “that you are maybe a little mysteriously bummed because Croach got himself a gentleman friend in some other dimension. Which, I gotta say, looked like a one-time thing, on account of how Sir Drinks-a-Lot started ignorin’ us ‘fore we was out the door.”

“I said I was sorry,” Sparks said. “Like, I actually said that.”  
  
“You goofs,” Red said, a little too loudly. “You goofs had one embarrassin’ roll in the hay and decide to call it off forever.”

“Wasn’t much hay, really,” Sparks mumbled. “More like...linens.”  
  
“I did not ‘call it off’ and the designated amount of time was not ‘forever,’” Croach corrected, his voice not very loud either.

“Then what was ‘the designated amount of time’?” Red asked.  
  
“Until I wished to re-engage in mutually pleasurable activities.”  
  
“Yeah, about that,” Red said, figuring now was as good a time as any. “Croach, why we ain’t been fucking?”

“Hey, so, if you don’t want me here for this part,” Sparks said, sensing some potential for conflict. “I can...leave.”  
  
“Sparks Nevada should remain part of this conversation,” Croach said.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“There were two main circumstances influencing my current state,” Croach said. “The first, which you were both present for, was our voyage to prevent the theft of our system's sun.”  
  
They did all remember that. Red and Croach had decided not to let Sparks head off to the sun without them, on account of how Sparks could well die on that mission. And Sparks did almost die -- sun rustlers turned out to be the scariest folks any of them had ever seen, and they had seen a lot of trouble-inclined folks. Sun rustlers were somewhere between giant space roaches and supermutants, with their eyes replaced by big, black sensors built to resist sun damage. And they were armed to the mandibles.  
  
So Sparks didn’t almost die in a ‘aliens are gonna blow up our whole planet’ kind of way. He almost died in a laser-sword-to-the-throat, can-smell-your-singeing-neck-hairs kind of way, thinking that the worst kind of mega-critter he ever saw could be the _last_ thing he ever saw. And he was so grateful for the rescuin’ that he kissed the first rescuer he saw right on the mouth. Which was Croach. Even though it was Red who had taken out the sun rustlers (via ingenuity and strategically placed lasers), so then he had to kiss her too. Obviously.  
  
Of course I was scared of sun rustlers, Red explained later. Sun rustlers are terrifying. I did it anyhow.  
  
But the amount of battling they wound up doing on the outside of spaceships was more than their Mars-made sun-suits were built to handle. They were lucky they didn’t burn up, but as it happened, afterward they were a little burned, potentially over-exposed to radiation, and all embarrassing kinds of sick.  
  
So they alternated between loopy, ain’t-it-grand-to-be-alive moments, and being cranky sick people. Once they got home to Mars, they were all put on bed rest while Maisey stayed on as actual-marshal, while they took to sleeping in a Space Aloe-covered pile. (Clothes were stupid. Clothes made your skin hurt.) Sparks started to appreciate how Croach could just molt his skin damage right off, he was probably a little jealous actually. But Croach’s system started overreacting, tried to take care of it all at once and couldn’t handle it, so he needed injections of Martian-style vitamin equivalents, which was fine, and sleep, which he didn’t want to do. So he got an experimental Nah Nohtek upgrade, which knocked him out at first, but brought him back stronger, probably, though nobody could really be sure.  
  
Three to a bed was more snuggly than kissy but it got kissy sometimes, and that one time it went way further than that, but that wasn’t what Croach was talking about just now.

“The second circumstance,” Croach continued, “has to do with the youngling of the robot designated Gork.”

“What?” said Red.

“Whaaaaat,” said Sparks.  
  
“You are aware of the robot designated Gork, and how his youngling is now a slightly larger human youngling?”  
  
“Yeah, I know that baby,” Sparks said. “We all know that baby. It’s a good baby.”  
  
“It is a statistically average human youngling,” Croach said. “Now that the original youngling has gotten larger, he has obtained another, smaller human youngling. Upon meeting it I was overcome with emotion, to an extent which I found disturbing.”  
  
“So you got baby feelings,” Red said. “Croach, honey, that’s okay, heck I got baby feelings sometimes nowadays. And you always wanted kids.”  
  
“The production of offspring has always been primary amongst my desires,” Croach agreed. “But I have been overwhelmingly concerned about complications which could result from pregnancy, given our unusual circumstances. During this time I have not been able to engage romantically in the way we would prefer.”

“Sorry about your emotional unavailability,” Sparks said.  
  
Red reached over Croach to swat at Sparks for that. Sparks dodged, and in dodging wound up lying down on his side, facing Croach on the bed. After giving Sparks a few light shoves on the shoulder, Red settled in on Croach’s other side, and kissed him on the cheek. “Croach, baby, what’re you afraid of?”  
  
“I am concerned about how a pregnancy would be affected by radiation exposure and the changes to my system,” Croach said, “as well as the overall viability of human-Martian hybrid children. There are almost no records of offspring between humans and Martians, which makes the outcome difficult to predict. The children could be more similar to humans, and thus unable to consume their brood-mates, giving us a very large brood to care for. Or none of them --” Croach’s voice broke here, like actual crying, “might thrive --”  
  
Red’s heart sank, like it was at the bottom of a real dark well. She took Croach’s hand.

“In any of these instances,” Croach said, recovering some but not fully, “I am concerned about the Red Plains Rider and I going through these events by ourselves. It would be best to have the full support of...our family.”

Sparks was quiet for a moment. “Do you mean both of us?”  
  
“I do mean you, Sparks Nevada.”

“I’m glad you mean me, Croach.” Sparks took Croach’s other hand, and didn’t say anything for a moment, until he heard what sounded like a choked-back sob on Croach’s other side.

“Red,” Sparks said, “are you crying?”  
  
“I will cry when I durn well want to!”  
  
“That is accurate,” Croach confirmed. “She will.”

“You cryin’ cuz we make such a beautiful family, or something else?”  
  
“Sparks,” Red sniffed. “Give me a minute or six.”

Red watched Sparks watching Croach’s belly rise and fall as he breathed.  
  
“Croach?” Sparks said.  
  
“Yes?”

“So you’re real concerned about possibly getting pregnant.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you, uh, had relations with that drunk guy?” 

Croach made a sound that was not unlike a sigh. “We utilized protection. Additionally, I could sense his extreme lack of desire to reproduce. His biological functioning was significantly altered by the fact that he consumed only alcohol for sustenance. I could sense he was not fertile.”  
  
“You could sense that?” Sparks said.  
  
“Yes. I have senses for specifically that purpose.” Croach touched two fingers to Spark’s shoulder. “You are sufficiently fertile.”  
  
“You can tell that from my shoulder?”  
  
So far as Red understood, it was just a combination of sensing temperature and smelling pheromones, but Croach didn’t bother to explain that part. “Yes.” He touched Red’s shoulder. “The Red Plains Rider, you have two weeks remaining in your ovulation cycle.”  
  
“Thanks, Croach,” Red sniffed.

“Red?” Sparks asked. “Are you cryin’ for a slightly different reason?”  
  
“Yep,” Red said. “Croach is real worried and I shoulda known, but I guess I been real worried about him too.” Red recalled her conversation with Sadie. “And I think I’ve been worried about _me_. So now I’m worryin’ about me being worried about Croach.”

“And if he needs taking care of, in a serious way,” Red continued, “and also whatever you two got goin’ on between each other needs taking care of, then who’s gonna take care of me?” 

That was not a thing Red usually said, but it felt right. “I been alone a lot, in my life, you know? But feelin’ alone while there’s folks always around who’s supposed to care about you is the gol-dang _worst_ .”  
  
"I have been concerned about my ability to make you happy," Croach said. "The intoxicated gentleman helped me see that."  
  
"Sweetheart," Red said, and kissed Croach on the cheek again, because she didn't know what else to do. Look at them, Red thought, look at both Sparks and Croach, just siftin’ through all these feelings. ‘Sorry about your emotional unavailability’ _my ass_.

“Red. If Croach is outta commission then I want to be in commission.”  
  
Red eyed Sparks, a little suspicious. “Do you mean that as a sex thing, Nevada?”  
  
“That actually wasn’t my first thought?” Sparks said. “I mean, I wouldn’t object. But I mean. Either way. I mean I can make dinner if’n he can’t some days. Or if’n you need, y’know. A hug. Or remindin' that you're a hero, on account of the sun rustler thing."  
  
Red reached across Croach with her other hand, to take Sparks’ hand. The look she gave him was soft, and warm. “Thanks, Sparks.”

“You may kiss,” Croach said. “That is permitted.”  
  
“That’s sweet, Croach, but I wasn’t thinkin --” Red started.  
  
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind but --” Sparks said at the same time.  
  
“I merely wanted to tell you that it was permitted,” Croach said.  
  
“If’n you want --” Sparks said, toward Croach.  
  
“We can talk about my desires at a later time, Sparks Nevada.”  
  
“Okay,” Red said, and gave both Croach and Sparks a kiss on the cheek.  
  
“Settlin’ with you guys is gonna be way better than settlin’ for a hardware store,” Sparks said. “You’d be awesome with babies.”

Red smiled. “I mean. We are guaranteed to do some goofy stuff along the way.”  
  
“Like lettin’ your babies grow up to be cowboys?” Sparks said. He was trying to make Red laugh. Red thought that was cute.  
  
Red recalled what Sadie said. “Or cowboy-style vigilante women.”  
  
“Or folks what don't fit the gender roles we've been used to in human society,” Sparks said.  
  
Red and Croach both turned to stare at Sparks.

“What?” Sparks said. “I been readin.'”  
  
“I am pleased to hear it, Sparks Nevada,” Croach said.

“I’m sorry I done messed up that other stuff, Croach.”

“What’d he do again?” Red said. “Cuz I wasn’t around for that.”

“Sparks misdesignated my gender in order to suggest I was a suitable partner for sexual intercourse,” Croach said.

“Oh,” said Red. “Yeah, don’t.”

“And it was like. Real bad timing,” Sparks explained. “Like, we were actually gonna do it, and then we...weren’t.”  
  
“I have additional reading recommendations regarding the remediality of human gender constructs if you would like them,” Croach said.  
  
“Sure,” Sparks said. “I got… time.”  
  
“Lookit you two bein’ grown-up,” Red gushed.  
  
“We are both of the age designated --”  
  
“Shut _up_ ,” Red said, affectionately. “Just kiddin', Croach, I love you.”  
  
“I love you too, The Red Plains Rider.”

“Hey,” Sparks said. “I love you. I love both of you.”

“ _IS THIS THE END OF YOUR TRANSMISSION_ ?” said a disembodied voice.  
  
It sounded like a Space Police Radio. Red’s eyes went wide. “What in official communication --”

Red looked under the bed, toward the voice. The pants she had thrown on the floor when Sadie was around still had a communicator attached at the hip, and the weight of her belt was holding down the ‘on’ button. “Well, shit.”

“I officially decline to comment on what’s been intermittently coming through the broadcast,” Maisie Lyons said. “What I will say, how’s ever, is: y'all are real lucky the planet wasn't in immediate peril.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sparks said, smiling at his family-types. “We're real lucky.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _just so's y'know, the plan for the rest of the series is: 3) Red/Croach/Sparks PWP, and 4) parentin' on Mars_


End file.
